Burning The Candle At Both Ends
by Val-Creative
Summary: Getting his best friends to sleep before the sun rises is not as easy as it sounds. Kon is gonna have to try harder. /TimxKonxBart. Fluff. Pre-reboot. Oneshot.


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"Bart, c'mon," Kon complains, stretched in the center of his ginormous mattress.

(It's an _awesome_ mattress, for your information: full and springy and comfy, big enough to fit like four people. And it's _aaall_ his at the Tower; no way he'd give it up.)

He props up on an elbow and sends a semi-glare at the smaller, leaner boy sitting against the footboard. "It's late, man. Don't make me drag your ass over here with my TK," Kon says. Bart doesn't answer the halfhearted threat when he's concentrating on blasting away zombie scum on the television screen inches from his face.

The speedster then holds up two fingers in his hand not pounding away at the game controller. Whether or not that means two seconds or two minutes, Kon can't tell.

Whatever.

Kon snorts, jerking his head towards Tim with legs dangling over the bed and quietly clicking away at keys on his laptop. "Seriously, _you_ are the one who needs the rest outta anyone," Kon adds, smoothing a hand up Tim's spine bowed-in, up the soft material of Tim's white tee—not for nothing. Tim's pulse quickens slightly under the gentle touch.

A distracted, soft noise deep from Tim's throat.

"I get enough," Tim says calmly, back still facing him.

"What, fifteen minutes of crashing?" Kon argues, "That's a _nap_. That's not even a _good_ nap." The keys continue clicking away, undisturbed, and the laptop shuts under the pressure of Kon's hand. Tim gives a warning look over his shoulder, blue eyes thinning, Kon's hand still on his back and rubbing a lazy circle. "Will you… just…" The sentence fades off from Kon's lips, drowned out in the sounds of zombie growling and meaty, rotting guts bursting, and Tim's shoulders constrict.

Damn him, he never relaxes. Not when they were younger, not now.

Softening his features from irritation, Kon slides the hand on the closed laptop, lifts it to the side of Tim's face and cups before he pushes his mouth lightly to Tim's. After a brief, hesitant moment, Tim caves into it, sucking the end of Kon's warm, wet tongue into his own mouth before closing the kiss.

The half-Kryptonian watches expressionless as Tim reopens his laptop and begins typing again. Several minutes pass and the laptop's glow shuts itself off.

Tim rises to his feet, smiling mildly as Kon full-out grins, and walks for the bathroom. "I need to brush my teeth."

He points a finger at Tim's back as he goes.

"Then you're getting sleep, y'hear me," Kon demands, smacking his palm on the mattress. The running of sink water behind the closed and locked bathroom door. He runs his fingers through cropped, dark hair and glances back at Bart finishing saving his video game and switching on the Food Network with a remote.

"Dude… seriously?" he says, exasperated, and Bart shoots him a shit-eating smile.

As Tim returns into view, wiping the heel of his palm against his chin, the gold-eyed boy springs onto his feet, clasping his hands together in front of Tim as he wraps his arms around Tim's waist, marching with him to bed. Kon pushes away the crumple of blankets for them. Tim crawls on Kon's opposite side when Bart settles on the left end of the bed.

"Tim doesn't like sleeping next to me," Bart says, more of a playful tease.

Kon snickers.

Tim replies to Bart with some degree of bluntness when he pulls a fleece blanket around himself and lies on his side, "Not when you hump my leg in the morning."

"Was she hot?" Kon asks, "In your dream, I mean?" Kon's fingers thread Tim's hair, and Bart tilts his head at him with skepticism.

"Why do you gotta assume it was some girl?"

"Let me try that again—was _I_ hot?"

"Good night," Tim speaks up, grumpily, voice rumbling from exhaustion.

"Night, Tim." Bart leans over Kon's lap, quickly and messily kissing the joint between Tim's shoulder and neck. He makes a not-so-subtle groan when Kon squeezes one of his asscheeks, and Bart's hand swats at him. "_Dude_—"

"It was there." Kon uses that as perfectly acceptable reasoning and mocks the cross-eyed and noisy raspberry from the speedster, settling down on his back with his shirt riding up, an arm dangling over Tim's pillow. A couple minutes later, he feels Bart curl up snug against him with the length of his body, snoring faintly. He squeezes Bart's fingers tucked in his.

The mattress is only half as awesome as the company, and Kon sure as hell wouldn't give that up either.

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_Still recovering from being the sick kid. Mostly just wanted this out of my documents. Hope it made you smile. Comments/thoughts are deeply appreciated, guys~._


End file.
